America's Pathetic Sweetheart

I’m just gonna lay it out there. If getting dumped and/or made a fool of was an Olympic sport, I would definitely take home the gold. People Magazine covers would be adorned with articles about “America’s Pathetic Sweetheart.” And I would gladly accept my role.

I became very aware of my foolishness during my junior year. Not only did the boy I like make a fool of me, but my best friend hung me out to dry. (Literally, I cried so much that I needed to hang my sweatshirt to dry.)

The abbreviated version of this love story goes a little something like this. Sophomore year I had environmental poli sci with Sam. We started chatting over the next summer. I developed a crush, and I thought he liked me, too…apparently not. 

If you recall the post about horrible dances, I took Sam to my formal. He drank the entire time. Texted the entire time, even while we were dancing. And, he was not up to hang out with me and my friends after the dance had concluded. I got the message loud and clear. He was definitely not that into me.

The next week I clearly remember one of my best friends coming up to me and asking me if we could talk. Jessica pulled me aside after Shabbat dinner was over and said this, “So I met this really great guy last night, and he is really nice. I am going out with him Saturday. And his name is Sam.” Wait for it. “Is that okay with you?”

Before I get into this, I would like to point out a few technicalities. (1) Are you trying to rub it in my face that he likes you and not me? (2) He isn’t a great guy because he has no respect for friendship boundaries. (3) Uhm, why are you asking if it’s okay with me, when you already told him yes?

CLEARLY, IT’S NOT OKAY WITH ME! (I’m down for being dumped on, but not with contributing help from my best friend.) However, due to point 3, I uttered the obligatory phrase, “Yeah, have fun!” And I exited the scene all the way to my other friends’ apartment to begin my night of patheticness.

Have you ever seen a girl crying in the middle of a bar and wondered what was wrong with her? Well, from my experience, I can tell you her best friend is probably going out with someone she either really liked or dated. 

We were in the middle of my favorite bar, and I was wearing a sweatshirt with Mickey Mouse dressed up like Santa Claus. (Just to give you a timeline, this was in December, and we had already stopped by an ugly Christmas sweater party.) Some boy approached me and handed me a Cranberry Vodka and said, “You look like you could use this.” I wasn’t even offended. Although, it did spark me to start crying again.  (Note, I was not crying because Sam didn’t like me. That would be dumb. I was crying because I felt betrayed by my best friend.) 

The rest of that night is a puffy-eyed blur of me repeating the story over and over again to strangers who all had the same reaction. “What a ______?!?!” I don’t really know where the end of this story is, because I forgave Jessica (thinking she knew too much about me to throw a friendship away), but there is always that thought in the back of my head. And nothing has really been the same ever since.

So I will give you this advice: Friends don’t date friend’s crushes, or exes, or anything for that matter during said friend’s search for her NJB…it’s just not right.

Single Sinner

I’d like to preface this post with the fact that I am from Alabama. I am from a place where it is not uncommon to get married young, and by young, I mean 21. I currently have four friends who are married...I am 22.

I was at the dentist’s office last year, and he asked me “Have you met Mr.Right?” My mouth was wide open with some aluminum sticks in it, so I couldn’t respond. He went on to tell me about how his nephew had just married the most beautiful girl with a personality the sunshine envied (not kidding…he used that phrase).

When he took the tools out of my poor mouth, I responded, “No, but I have met Mr. Wrong, and I really liked him.” The look on my dentist’s face was indescribable.  He couldn’t tell whether to pity me and my misfortune or be appalled by my retort.

As he finished up my cavity-free mouth he said, “When you do meet Mr.Right, tell him he is lucky to be with one of the best smiles this dentist has ever seen.” (I think he tells all of his unlucky in love patients this.) I then left feeling mocked, wondering if I was going against Gd’s southern will by being the only single girl left in my graduating high school class. (This is only a slight exaggeration.)

I had forgotten all of this until yesterday, when my mother’s friend got on the phone with me and out of nowhere said, “Laurie, we’re real proud of you, and you’re going to meet someone real soon, honey.”

I know I have this blog that talks about my misfortunes, but did the government send out a PSA telling the world I am single and it’s a sin?  

I might be ahead of my time with this comment, but I think my fellow ladies should focus on their careers and becoming themselves before bringing someone else into the picture. I am a mess! I freak out deciding between the apple yogurt or the mango yogurt in the store, let alone deciding if I want to spend my unforeseeable future with someone who doesn’t put down the toilet seat or wash his hands.

Someone needs to speak to those Baby Boomers and tell them people are getting married later in life now.

 To quote one of my favorite poets, “That’s how it’s supposed to be, living young and wild and free.” (Holla, Wiz!) These are my thoughts on my search for my NJB. (These thoughts are subject to change because as stated previously, I’m 22 and a girl. Changing our minds is kind of my age group’s thing.)

Subway Boy

“You find the one in the most random and unexpected places.”

This is the lie I have been told since I remember asking how my parents met.  (My parents met while they were on dates with other people, so we will let them be the exception.) My sister met her husband on JDate where you are paying to meet people. My friend met her husband in a youth group where you meet people. My other friend met her boyfriend through a mutual friend, and it was a setup. The point is: it’s not random. It’s not unexpected. You don’t find them in unlikely places. You find them the way everyone else does: on a website, through a friend, at a party, at a bar (my parents were at a bar…trashy.).

So, let me ask you this. Is it that insane that I met my one on the subway? I see three of the same people almost every day on the subway. One boy who always looks like he stepped out of a J. Crew catalogue, one girl with possibly the prettiest orange curls in the world but sports a scowl because I’m guessing she is awake, and finally, I see my “one.” He is tall, dark, and Gd I hope he’s Jewish!

Let me tell you more about our relationship. We see each other about three to four times a week. We get on the same subway cart, and we are usually in close proximity. He reads twitter on his phone, I rock out to “Good Vibrations” given the subway vibrates. This was all I really knew about him until this week. He finally noticed me! He looked at me and smiled. And now I can add the most beautiful smile in the entire world to his list of wonderful attributes. 

You think I’m crazy. Maybe I am. But that’s why people call it crazy in love! (I clearly know I am not in love, but I am allowed to have a crush.) I go to the subway every single day. I am bound to meet at least one person down there, and who says it can’t be my one? Not so random, my friends, is it?

Now that I have fallen curls over boots for this boy, I gotta figure out my first move. I can’t just say “Hi” in a crowded subway full of silent people. If I say something there needs to be a purpose behind it.  So I am putting this out to my readers, whoever you are. Do you have any ideas of how I can snag this crush on my morning route and my search for my NJB?

I'm Bored

I don’t like museums. I never have. I never will. I think they are boring unless I am able to do something interactive in them (I do like the Boston Museum of Science). When people want to go to museums, I prefer art museums. I don’t like art, but I like to make fun of the people who think a canvas painted blue actually means something. (If a blue canvas is art, my painted block art I created at 3 was much more valuable that the $25 my dad paid for it at the school auction.)

When JDate #1 suggested we go to the Museum of Natural History for our first date, I was already dreading it. I told him I really liked the MoMA. His response? “That’s cool, too. Let’s go to the Museum of Natural History.”

As soon as I got there, I realized two things. One, he lied about his height. Two, this was going to be a hilarious story for my blog. While we stood in the ticket line, he barely spoke to me. I kept the conversation alive because I figured he was nervous. I suggested we use our recently expired student IDs to get a discount. The suggested ticket price fell to $29 total. The ticket master asked what donation amount my date would like to pay, and he responded $20. (I felt horrible! I wanted to donate the remaining $9. I don’t like museums, but you shouldn’t skimp at them.) He then turned to me and said, “I like museums because it’s always a suggested price, and you don’t have to pay all of it.”

Uhhhh, he didn’t have to call attention to being cheap on our first date. I already noticed and was not planning on saying anything. He went on about it for at least five minutes. (I don’t need to know your financial stability on the first date! Just take me some place that’s free like the park. I’d like it more than looking at stuffed animals.) 

We were off to a tainted start, and I was convinced I could turn this 18-wheeler back on track. Trying to make the best of an educational date, I decided to read about the different fossils and dinosaurs.  As I read out loud about one, he leaned up against the railing and stared at me. (I have never been a drop dead gorgeous girl, so this was a new and uncomfortable experience for me.) This continued at the next three fossils until I finally asked him to stop looking at me. (Why would you stare at someone who you are on a date with? It’s not a bar. It’s a museum!)

The date continued down the same path. He answered questions with simple short sentences and only asked topical questions such as, “Do you have siblings?” “Yes” without any sort of follow up. I tried telling stories about my life so he would do the same, but there was nothing that would make him speak about anything besides how he is trying to become more religious (I’m not, so that’s also a problem).

What I gathered from our conversation was he is a momma’s boy (don’t admit that to a girl), he has never lived away from home or supported himself in any form, he thinks lawyers are awful (my dad’s a lawyer…that’s awkward) and he wants to be a police officer so he can stop people from shoplifting (someone’s gotta do it, but my NJB probably won’t be the one doing so).

Finally, I had sped our way through the museum in two hours and I could see the light at the end of the exit. I was so close! He asked to go get lunch with me. I made up an excuse. He asked me to get dessert. (If I wasn’t hungry, I don’t want ice cream!) I felt too guilty not to say yes. Half way through my ice cream, I made a comment about needing to get home. He protested, and walked me to the bus that was out of his way. (There was no getting rid of him.)

At the very end he asked me for my number. I gave it to him, but he repeated it back to me wrong. I didn’t correct him. I should really text that person and thank him for helping me on my search for my NJB. 

P.S. Did anyone else get that he wasn’t willing to pay full price for tickets, but wanted to pay for my meal?

When You Get The Chance To Sit It Out Or Dance...I Should Sit

I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again. Dances are not my strong point. Sorority dances on the other hand take on a whole ‘nother level of stress.

We are forced into taking dates, even though we would probably have more fun just girls and quarter drink deals. (Ladies, am I right or am I right?) Do you know how hard it is for me to convince someone I’m a good time? I don’t even think I’m a good time! On my list of favorite activities, sitting ranks at number one or two, competing with grocery shopping. (I fit in well with 50+ crowd.)

Most everyone I asked to be my date for the evenings were all duds or turned me down (I wasn’t convincing when I told them it would be fun…). And so ladies and gentlemen, I present to you my top three college dance disasters (This message has been brought to you by the University of Illinois and my loving sorority).

1) Junior Year Formal Sam Borenstein: I actually had a crush on this guy, but he was too hard to read until I read that he was not into me. We had chatted each other up since the beginning of summer and it had continued through to November, so I figured it was plausible that he might have liked me. So, I invited him to my dance. Well, I don’t know where this boy grew up (actually I do, the suburbs of Chicago), but he had no manners! I don’t know how to explain how uncomfortable it is to be dancing with a boy while he is texting. I understand my generation is attached at the fingertips to our mobiles, but come on! He also kept buying himself drink after drink after drink. Now I’m not sure if that was a comment on how I looked (I really tried with my makeup and hair!) or my boringness (We actually never sat down). Needless to say, that was a fail. I guess him asking my best friend out a day later also was pretty tragic (that’s a story for next week).

2) Junior Year Pledge Dance Jason Wheeler: Jason, the off/on boy of college, asked me to his dance. I knew at the time, I was a backup, a “I don’t want to go alone,” a “the girl I like will be here with her boyfriend, and I want to appear like I don’t care” date. I didn’t mind. I’d been there before and figured it would be a good time since his best friend was taking my best friend. We went to dinner first where Laura, the best friend, and I were separated. I was forced into awkward conversation with people I barely knew, and Jason was not much help keeping the conversation afloat. Still, it was fine. (I can talk to wall and find something amusing with the conversation.) But then we got to the dance at his fraternity. I don’t know if you have ever been in a sea of people where it’s really dark, but for the record, if you don’t stick to the party you strolled in with, you aren’t finding him again. And that’s what happened. Jason left me. So I got to third wheel it with Laura and Jason’s best friend. (Let me be clear, all three of us were uncomfortable.) Who does that? Leaves their date? Not even an hour into the party, Laura and I were abruptly taken home.  The next day, we  decided our dates got peeved with others’ drug usage happening in their  rooms and ex-hookups sauntering in their suite to mingle with them in front of us, and that’s what led to the quick end to the evening. Neither of us complained about it though. We were happy to be home.

3)Freshman Year Pledge Dance Steven Rosenburg/Mike: For starters, I had asked Jason to the dance my pledge class spent the entire semester planning. He told me a week before that he could no longer be my date because he had to go home for his Aunt’s birthday (You don’t have to tell me. I know it was because he just didn’t want to go with me.) So, I turned to Mike.  Remember Mike? The one who said he liked me, and then he conveniently changed his mind? He was already taking his female best friend. (Fine!) So I took Steven Rosenburg, a thug Jewish boy with earrings. (Does this sound like senior prom at all to anyone?) Steven bought me a drink and then left me to fin for myself so he could go flirt with my sorority sisters. (Really?) So there I was at the dance. Pathetic. Rejected. The strap of my dress broken. BUT! My hair looked damn good! So nothing was going to ruin my night, until I asked Mike to dance. He said no. Then he danced with a girl who didn’t take the time to straighten her hair. And there I was again watching. Even more pathetic and rejected. And then there I was in the hallway, pathetic, rejected and crying. And then there I was on the bus pathetic, rejected and crying. (All the meanwhile, my hair still looking good.) And then there I was with the freshmen boys asking me if I was okay, and I responded tears streaming about my patheticness and rejectedness.  I woke up the next morning with swollen eyes still pathetic and rejected, but this time I was also feeling vengeful. Hell hath no fury like a Laurie scorned!

Moral of the story, I was better off always taking my best friend Joe Gates. He was always the best date. He’s a great asset in my search for my NJB.

I'm Funny!

Let me let you in on a secret. I’m pretty stinkin’ funny. I mean how many other girls do you know who started a blog like this? My humor and my college degree are two of the things I am proudest of. And since I am suddenly surrounded by Ivy alumni in New York City, my degree is making me less and less proud (Go ILLINI!). So I have my extremely honest humor at the top of my personality resume, followed by delightfully crazy.

Let me let you in on another secret. I don’t like people who don’t think I am funny. (I don’t like dumb people either, but they tend to be the same kind.) On my third day of being signed up for JDate, (yes, I am on it; don’t act surprised) I got an email that read “Hey whats up.” 

Since I moved to New York a short two months ago, I started trying this new thing called not judging, which is very hard for me. He used improper grammar! Apostrophes and question marks should be necessities when you are trying to impress a girl, but I chose to ignore it. 

After receiving this message, I scavenged his profile to try to find something cute and funny to respond with. He said he liked board games, and I happen to fancy them also. I responded:

“Man of few words? I guess when you listed board games as a hobby, scrabble didn’t rank among your favorites :) Hi, I’m Laurie!”

I added the emoticon in so that we would all be aware I was clearly making a joke. I would never intentionally hurt a stranger’s feelings. So you can imagine my surprise when I promptly got this response: 

“Wow so very clever of you, were you very proud of yourself when you wrote that? So witty a board game reference and everything. I generally don't write a more robust introduction because I like to feel out if the person I am writing to is intelligent. I'm real I don't do cheesy pick up lines or rehearsed introductions I let conversation develop naturally.”  (Still having  grammar issues…)

As I said in the beginning, the two things I am proudest of: my humor and intelligence. So as I read his response in my head, I said to myself, “Aw, HELL NO!”  I swiftly responded:

“Actually, I am proud of my clever response since you gave me nothing to respond to because you must lack any type of normal conversational and social skills. I give you a C for effort on trying to put me down simply because your response was average. As for intelligence, check your grammar before you email the next girl.”

And, BOOM! Did he think because I am 22 I wouldn’t be able to come up with a biting response? (He clearly thought my first response was “clever” and “witty.”) I’m not mean and I am trying not to judge, but give me a break. I’m just supposed to let him call me unintelligent without any type of retort?

This encounter was clearly a JDate failure, but who knows for the future on my search for my NJB…

Wishing and Hoping and Thinking and Hating

I think I have one of the best memories of anyone I know, and I think this is my curse. I remember 9th grade gym class becoming friends with Mary. I remember bonding with my sorority sisters learning the Hannah Montana dance, "Pop it, Lock it, Polk-a-Dot it," I remember laying down on my friend's fraternity floor because I was certain I was allergic to fruit punch (I had an ulcer, and it was the alcohol that made me feel this way...Who has ulcers when they are in college?). 

I've typed this post up at least 10 times recounting what I referred to for three years as a "whatever you call it." I have typed to get back at him (Taylor Swift style), to explain how I think I feel (which changes every other week) and to tell my side of the story (but I'm not sure if there are sides). But every time I typed it out, I stored the post away because some things are a little too private for even the Internet. (The rest of my horrific relations are not.)

I spent 3-4 years wishing and hoping, and just like the song says, that didn't get me into his arms (in this case, arms is heart). And now, when I finally decide that perhaps I am better than all of this, that maybe I deserve better, that my mother spoke the truth when she called me “special,” my stinking memory reminds me that it is in pristine condition and is not forgetting anything about “whatever you call it,” no matter how hard I wish it away. 

I remember meeting him, getting to know him, liking him, being disappointed by him, first kiss, last kiss, holding his hand, crying over mixed messages and telling myself the entire thing was normal (it wasn't normal), but I mostly just remember smiling whenever he deemed it an appropriate time to contact me (because isn't that what all girls want, attention from the one person we can't get off our minds?). I remember all of this and every conversation in between. And even though I can remember what it feels like when I rolled up in my roommate’s bed sobbing about it (or the time at the gym I convinced someone that the wetness on my face was not tears, I just sweat a lot in the face), it doesn't compare to the moments that made me happy, so my memory downplays the times I went to bed asking the famous question, "What's wrong with me?" and it emphasizes every smile and laugh. 

So this is my question. I think this is the question many girls my age ask. If I know thinking about this and replaying three years in my head is no good and I want to leave this behind, why can't I move past it and let go? Because this is surely holding me back in my search for my NJB.

Can I get some "Amens" from my fellow ladies?